The Last Song
by Idgiebay
Summary: Lying in a hospital bed gives one time to reflect... it also lets one know who truly cares.


Although it doesn't follow the song completely, this fic was inspired by Elton John's "The Last Song." I think you should listen to it. It's very pretty. This story is told from Dib's POV.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Invader ZIM, nor do I own "The Last Song." I just love them both.  
  
Warnings: None, except that this might make you cry if you're sensitive.  
  
- - - - - -  
  
Yesterday you came to lift me up  
  
As light as straw and brittle as a bird  
  
Today I weigh less than a shadow on the wall  
  
Just one more whisper of a voice unheard  
  
Tomorrow leave the windows open  
  
As fear grows please hold me in your arms  
  
Won't you help me if you can to shake this anger  
  
I need your gentle hands to keep me calm  
  
`Cause I never thought I'd lose  
  
I only thought I'd win  
  
I never dreamed I'd feel  
  
This fire beneath my skin  
  
I can't believe you love me  
  
I never thought you'd come  
  
I guess I misjudged love  
  
Between a father and his son  
  
Things we never said come together  
  
The hidden truth no longer haunting me  
  
Tonight we touched on the things that were never spoken  
  
That kind of understanding sets me free  
  
`Cause I never thought I'd lose  
  
I only thought I'd win  
  
I never dreamed I'd feel  
  
This fire beneath my skin  
  
I can't believe you love me  
  
I never thought you'd come  
  
I guess I misjudged love  
  
Between a father and his son  
  
--Elton John's "The Last Song"  
  
- - - - - -  
  
  
  
The Last Song  
  
By Idgiebay  
  
Here I'm floating, caught in a place where not a single thing exists. There is no sound, there is no light, and I'm apt enough to move only a bit, unable to affect my speed or how much I can move my limbs. Am I even in control of my body? My mind is telling me to wave my arms and kick my legs, and yet I am incapable of knowing whether or not they even respond to my desperate attempts. I cannot calculate the time I've spent in this desolate place of darkness; has it been ten seconds or has it been a millennium? Every sense in my body is now screeching with frustrated rage and I'm beginning to see things . . . black figures, even darker than the shadows that engulf me, hovering eerily about and mocking my sad condition. One silhouette is immediately recognized as that alien scum, Zim. His taunting laughter is echoing throughout my head, pounding on my brain like a nail hitting a hammer . . . and all I can do is listen, trying as hard as I can to lift my arms and coil my fingers around his neck. But nothing happens.  
  
Unmoving as I float here, helplessly watching the ghostly shapes dance around me, I suddenly hear a sharp click bounce off the walls of my mind. The devilish forms slowly dissipate as I realize that my eyes are opening, greeted with a sharpened dagger of light that relentlessly stabs into them. This searing pain, though, cannot compare to the inferno that blazes beneath my skin, setting afire every joint and every nerve imaginable. And just as the light washes over my vision and the pain wreaks havoc throughout my body, so, as well, do the memories of where I am and how I came to be here flood my consciousness, bringing about surges of emotion that merely add to the thumping headache already making itself known.  
  
I'm in the hospital . . . because of HIM.  
  
The sound of footsteps beside my bed is startling at first, as I realize I can't move my head without causing extreme discomfort. Who's there, I want to ask, but my voice is lost. My mouth refuses to cooperate and I settle for shifting my gaze as far as possible, but I see no one. I hope it's Gaz; she said she'd come back, after all. Even if all she did was play her Game Slave, just having her here with me right now would help calm my-Oh no . . .  
  
A sinking feeling enters my gut as the person beside me comes into view. A stout, red-headed nurse with a needle. I hate needles . . . The pounding in my head intensifies as she smiles at me, holding the needle in plain sight.  
  
"I need to take blood." And then she takes hold of my arm and . . .  
  
. . . my arm . . . is that my arm? It's so frail, so fragile looking, like a dried out twig in autumn that snaps so easily under the slightest pressure. My fingers . . . so lifeless . . . am I dying?  
  
She jabs me with the needle and I flinch out of instinct, although the pain normally felt is far surpassed by the constant fire raging inside me. The blood fills the tube and she pulls the invading probe out of my skin before muttering a quick thank you. She turns on her heel, heads out the door, and is gone.  
  
And I'm alone.  
  
What did he do to me?  
  
I had infiltrated his base again, but he didn't seem mad that I was there. Almost delighted . . . evilly so. I had my camera with me and was set on taking pictures of his underground labs, planning on sending them to Mysterious Mysteries and the Swollen Eyeball Network . . . after making several backup copies and placing them in easily accessible areas, of course. I was so proud, so sure that I had him this time, until I heard him laughing behind me. A cold, sinister laugh unlike one I'd ever heard from him before. It sent chills up my spine. I slowly turned around, coming face to face with a foreign gun.  
  
So, after all this time, he was finally going to blast me, get rid of me the easy way . . .  
  
The trigger was pulled so quickly, I didn't have time to react when a red glow surrounded my body, scorching my insides and causing me to be immobile for quite some time. He was grinning at me, enjoying the pain I could do nothing about, relishing in the victory that was supposed to be mine. And then . . . I fell to the ground, and the pain disappeared, and he was laughing again.  
  
"I've won," he said.  
  
Quickly, I was on my feet, brushing my trench coat off as I scoffed at his senseless gloating. "Oh, great idea, Zim," I spat at him. "You think I can't take a little heat? So you burnt me a little, I'm so scared."  
  
"You should be. You'll suffer, pitiful human."  
  
I was forcefully escorted out by the house security, voiced that vengeance would be mine, and headed home. The next thing I remember is being doubled over in pain on my bedroom floor, crying out and burning with fever as a losing battle raged on in my body. Gaz called the ambulance.  
  
Of course Gaz called the ambulance. It's not like anyone else would have done so . . . like my father.  
  
My father . . . how long have I been in the hospital? He hasn't even come to see me. He probably won't come . . . he's probably unaware that anything is happening, busily filming his television show, too booked up to see his only son in the hospital. Probably won't know that anything's wrong until it's too late, and then, will he even care?  
  
I'd like to say he would. That would relax me. But, we barely know each other.  
  
The pain is becoming more unbearable by the minute . . . every organ conceivable is ignited, and it feels as though my body is eating itself from the inside out. Although I remain still, my heart, pumping as slow as I've ever remembered, is labored. Every beat sounds as if it's the last. How I want to close my eyes and give in to the pestering urge to sleep, to take a moment to diminish the throbbing aches and get away from reality, if only for a moment or two. But I'm scared. I'm afraid that if I sleep now, I won't wake up. I won't hear Gaz threatening me to shut up again. I won't hear Zim's menacing laughter, and I won't be able to get him back for doing this to me.  
  
When I get out of here, that alien is dead.  
  
A soft whirring sound makes its presence known. I'd heard it before, low in the background, muffled by the annoying static that plagued my ears, but now I can hear it much more clearly. It's to the left of me . . . what is it?  
  
Gods, no . . . is that a respirator? My lungs have failed?  
  
A sense of panic overtakes me as I come to the sudden realization that I might not get out of here . . . My heart beats faster as a lump lodges itself in my throat, only adding to the agony assaulting my body. Damnit, where is Gaz? I'm so freaking scared.  
  
The door opens. Please, let it be her . . .  
  
A shadow casts on the wall, too tall to be Gaz . . . not another nurse, I hope. Please, not another nurse with another needle. I just want to go home. I close my eyes tightly, anticipating the pinch of the syringe entering my arm to withdraw more of the vital fluids my heart is trying so desperately to produce. I want to cry, but the tears refuse to come. I manage a whimper, but it sounds so distant to my own ears . . . so small and feeble.  
  
"Dib . . ."  
  
That voice . . .  
  
My muscles relax as much as possible and I open my eyes to be greeted by a face I thought I'd never see again. His gloved hands were shoved into the pockets of his lab coat and he stood tall, dignified, as a scientist of his stature should. He seems unfazed by his current surroundings, but the mere fact that he's here sets my emotions into overdrive. The tears flow without protest and I choke out the first words I've said in . . . days, perhaps.  
  
"I didn't think you'd come." The words sound garbled to me, but it looks as though he understands.  
  
Slowly, he approaches my bedside, his boots clicking against what must be tiled floor. He lowers the side bar of the bed and gently sits himself on the mattress, no words passing the lips hidden by the flaps of his collar. Lifting his hands from his pockets, he removes one of his gloves and reaches forward . . . what is he doing?  
  
It feels so soothing, his cool hand delicately brushing against my burning forehead. He's never shown such affection . . . don't stop. Now I can hear myself sobbing. It's too much . . .  
  
My gaze drifts to the other side of the bed and I finally realize Gaz is standing there, smiling at me, but the corners of her mouth are twitching violently. I force myself to smile back, though it hurts to do so.  
  
When I turn back, Dad has his goggles off. I don't think I've every really seen his eyes. They're like mine . . . light brown, with an almost amber hue to them. The whites of his eyes aren't white, though, they're red . . . has he been crying? Has he been crying for me? Dad never cries . . .  
  
Overwhelming fear envelops me. I am dying, aren't I? No more Gaz, no more Dad, no more Zim . . . no more life. Something's happening inside my body that science can't fix. Science has betrayed me. I'm going to cease to exist, and everyone will be happy. The skool freak will be gone, no more paranormal fanatic to make the lives of so many others so miserable, no more savior to the Earth, no more Mothman, no more Dib.  
  
And this is how it will end, with me being utterly delirious. Even now, I feel like I'm being elevated from the bed. I must have snapped, already. Or have I?  
  
The static disappears from my hearing and my sobs, though muffled by something, are crystal clear to my ears. I'm burying my face into something warm, and, in turn, something warm is gently wrapped around me. Dad is hugging me . . . he lifted me up from the bed and is hugging me. And, with all the strength I've been able to muster, I'm hugging him back. I think I heard him mutter, something, but I'm not sure what he said.  
  
"What?" I ask, in between cries.  
  
"I love you . . ."  
  
That's new to my ears. I'm trying to respond, I really am, but I think I've used up all my energy. I think he knows, though . . . he has to. Something else wraps around me and, from the corner of my eye, I see that Gaz has climbed on the bed and is joining the embrace. It's so calming . . . slowly, the fear is leaving and that nagging urge to sleep has returned. I'm not afraid to close my eyes, though. I feel much better already. My heart . . . it feels so relaxed, almost like it's not doing anything at all . . . the pain is fading.  
  
What's that beeping noise I hear?  
  
It doesn't matter . . . I think I'll close my eyes now . . .  
  
The last thing I hear before a long awaited sleep overcomes me is the sob that Gaz had been holding in this whole time.  
  
Goodnight, Gaz . . . goodnight, Dad.  
  
-fin-  
  
Well, there you have it. This fic is two firsts for me . . . my first drama fic and my first fic told from a first person point of view. Sorry Dib died . . . I don't think it would have been as powerful if he lived, though, don't you agree? I just wanted to take a break from comedy.  
  
Well, what do you think? I'm not too sure what I think, myself.  
  
Umm, review! Any flames will be fed to my friend, Diesel. ^^;; 


End file.
